Did We Ask

Did we ask to exist?
Think on it…
A sentient thought that
Could whisper to a woman’s whom
“I’m ready.”
Or…
Perhaps,
As the scene was written
The ghosts within the mind of God
Asked for life,
And he let them free.
Maybe,
We itched with in his ear.
Or twined inside his being.
Pulling,
Begging,
To be.
But perhaps not.
Perhaps we were but silence,
Pregnant with potential.
A question ready to be asked.
A lesson waiting for the right
Scholars interpretation
And that was He.
Maybe…

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


Processing…
Success! You're on the list.

Six Word Story (80)

Delicate. fragmenting under pressure.

Desiccated particles, all that remain.

Or…

An imprint that will last lifetimes.

A legacy.

A gift.

A life unforgettable.

We all leave imprints we are unaware of.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


Processing…
Success! You're on the list.

The Weight of Me

As the weight of me grew,
I found myself stepping
On dreams
Braking them to shards.
Dancing on the glittering
Fragments
Of loss.
 
They couldn’t support me anymore.
 
As the weight of me grew,
I found I could push,
Pull,
Cary,
Loads that dwarfed others.
 
I didn’t always need help.
 
As the weight of me grew,
I gained,
I lost,
I changed,
Paying the cost of filling.
 
Often hungry for more.
 
As the weight if me grew,
I knew I would burst.
Self saturation
Dragging me down.
Stagnant strength.
 
I was lost in my own veins.
 
As the weight of me grew,
Swollen limbs restricted.
Forced to sit still
In filth
Unsated want.
 
I had, had enough of self.
 
As the weight if me dripped,
I raged.
Sweating,
Cursing,
Hurling up bits.
 
They had turned to poison.
 
As the weight of me balanced,
I was shame.
Until it rained,
Washing clean my ruin.
Revealing empty skin.
 
Hunger lingered on.
 
Longing to fill sagging emptiness.
Hunting purpose.
Seeking strength I once owned.
Still,
Leery of gorging on self.
 
I still remember that slow poison.
 
Then you took my hand
And the weight of me
Felt weak.
So,
You gave me a drink.
 
Homely soup for my soul.
 
It satisfied
And I shared myself too.
With crumbs of words,
A sprinkle of laughter,
We nourished each other.
 
And the weight of me found peace.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


Processing…
Success! You're on the list.

Six Word Story (79)

The fall to earth is never strait, or predictable.

For a while they hold fast, grow, preparing for the fall. A fall that’s inevitable.

We all fall.

I pray when I finally land, others will say I fell with grace.

And when I rest, it will be in fertile soil, in which to spread new roots.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com


Processing…
Success! You're on the list.